


Beautiful Dreamers

by MEWTWOTRAINERX



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Coming of Age, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Pokemon Battles, Pokemon Game Canon, Pokemon Journey, Pokemon Training, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29103114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MEWTWOTRAINERX/pseuds/MEWTWOTRAINERX
Summary: Once a Pokémon Trainer gave up on his dream to be Pokémon Master, and now works as a delivery boy. Yet one day an unexpected delivery to a strange and exciting place reignites his old passion and his dream is reborn. Not all hopes are so pure; the dark dreams of Team Rocket have not died, even as they seek meaning in a world without Giovanni...





	1. To Be A Pokemon Master

A tall, slender bicyclist raced along the dirt trail cleaving through the Viridian Forest, bent but unbreaking beneath the weight of a large, leather backpack. The bicyclist, whose name was Gray, was a young man with long, ropey platinum-blonde hair that wavered in a wind and he wore a blue-and-green work uniform. A Caterpie, attempting to cross the branches that met overhead, dropped like a wad of pudding right into his path; it squealed and cowered, but the bicyclist rocketed straight by. Inexplicably, he had changed his course moments before the Caterpie had fallen. 

Gray never even noticed the Caterpie. Gray remained focused through his wide-lensed goggles on the ruggedness of the road. Here the undergrowth intruded further and further inward, and trees extended their long and treacherous roots just below the soil. These were roads less traveled by, those leading to the west and Ochre Woods rather than north towards Pewter City.

Soon the trees huddled so densely on either side, bending like old men over winter flames, that they had shut out the mellow golden light of mid-morning, wrapping him in the dense shadows of the leaves. Brief glimmers rippled across the ground as a strong breeze rattled the boughs, but he did not need them. Gray had driven this route so many times he could still follow the narrow imprint of his tire tracks in the shadow.

Suddenly he burst back into the light, as the trees shied away from the steep shores of a high-banked stream. Rubber wheels rattled against the thick, strong planks of a wooden bridge that crossed the stream, leading yet again into an autumnal wood, where the leaves flamed scarlet and orange all year long.

Partway through this wood, Gray skidded to a stop so sudden his wheels scrapped through the dirt. He felt acutely tense suddenly; his eyes were drawn to a thorny bush on the side of the road growing beside a rotted old log.

Gray stared at it for a long second, stepped off his back, and clutched the pokéball strapped to his belt. “Go, Scrappy!”

The pokéball unleashed a Charmander; a pair of curved horns scissored through the briar, clenching them before hurling them forward. Charmander gaped, then managed to dive just out of the way. The thorny bundle landed and rolled a few feet as the Pinsir stomped from its hiding place, uttering its hoarse, rasping cry.

“Use Ember!”

Charmander spewed a flurry of small flames, striking the Pinsir’s face-chest, and it covered its eyes with its hands. Charmander charged forward, repeatedly scratching at its stomach and hands. Pinsir’s stubby foot lashed out, striking Charmander’s chin and knocking it onto its tail. Pinsir rubbed its eyes, blinked angrily, then abruptly turned and returned to the undergrowth.

“I guess it only really wanted a one-sided fight,” said Gray, as he checked on his pokémon. He suspected it was the same Pinsir that had attacked him a month ago, probably attracted by his food. Gray gently lifted Charmander’s his with his finger to look at its chin.

“Just a little bruise, looks like.”

Gray sprayed a dab of potion on it. When he lifted up his pokéball, Charmander shook its head and stretched its arms forward insistently.

“Well, alright. It’s not that much farther.”

Gray lifted the Charmander onto his shoulders, though its hot body and fiery tail made his neck and back gush sweat. Fastening the little pokémon’s leg on either side of his neck, he remounted his bike, and carried on a little more slowly. He distracted himself from his discomfort by wondering what that Pinsir was doing in Viridian Forest. Perhaps it had been abandoned, or it came here to lay eggs where the pokémon were weak, or it had been driven far from home in a territorial dispute—this sort of wondering distracted him from his discomfort until he penetrated the forest and reached the verdant hills rolling on the other side.

Gray pumped up the hills and rolled down them, rising and falling with the trail, running between aged wooden houses with browning picket fences. Only a handful of people lived in this deeply rural region in the foothills of Indigo Plateau, where even the mail truck didn’t go, and most of them were elderly. He pulled up to the dark oak door of old-fashioned cottage with fading red roof and homely beige walls and knocked.

It took a few minutes for him to hear the sound of someone moving inside, followed by the clank of the heavy, iron lock being twisted. A small, aged woman, bent over her aluminum walker, slowly pulled the door open.

“Everywhere Delivery, ma’am,” said Gray, he said, holding forward a blue-and-white medicine bag. “Are your Mrs. Mayberry?”

“Oh, you’re just in time! I was just about to run out,” said the old woman. As she took the bag in hand, Gray presented a sheet of paper and a pen.

“Can I get your signature, please?”

“Oh, of course, deary. You know, my grandson usually brings my refills every month, but I’m afraid he got sent away on a business trip….” Mrs. Mayberry carried on as Gray turned around, letting her use his back to sign. “He’s a good boy, of course, really, I shouldn’t impose on him so… But it’s very hard to find anyone who will delivery out here… So really, you’re a life saver…”

There were two forms, one for Everywhere Delivery, and a second for the pharmacy. Gray checked that she had signed them both. “Can you look inside the bag and make sure it’s in good order?”

The questioned pushed Mayberry out of her ramble, and she peaked inside. “Yes, yes. It looks all good. But my, my…” Her large eyes stared at his Charmander. “What a cute little pokémon you have there. I remember when I went on my pokémon journey, so long ago. It was such a wonderful time. I remember, I chose Bulbasaur, because I loved flowers. How lucky you are, to still be on yours.”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” said Gray. “My journey ended years ago. I’m just a delivery boy now.”

“Ah, but you’re still traveling with your pokémon, aren’t you?” she said.

“I suppose…”

“Oh, dear! Here I am, gabbing all day, while you have a job to do. Thank you very much, young man.”

“Please remember Everywhere Delivery for all your future needs,” said Gray, tipping his blue-green hat with the scarlet ED logo. 

As mounted his bicycle, Gray felt suddenly irritated, as if the job that had been so simple and pleasant had suddenly become taxing. The fiery heat on his back no longer seemed negligible, so he snapped Charmander back into its pokéball without warning.

As he drove back the way he came, he focused on pumping the pedals far harder than he needed to, burning himself out unnecessarily, rather than thinking about that innocuous conversation. Before he knew it, he was cycling through the fine grassy plains leading back to Viridian City, and a passing breeze cooled his blood a little.

Within the city he first stopped at the purple roofed Viridian Pharmacy from where he had first received the package. The pharmacist confirmed the signature—Mayberry had actually called with compliments—and signed another form. With that done, he had no further business, and could finally finish the job.

Everywhere Delivery’s office was a small, old, grubby concrete building set up right opposite the Viridian Post Office. Carved wood red letters “ED” were set on a tall, blue pole, like the signage of a fast food restaurant, and the full name was painted on the front of the building. An enormous air conditioning unit rumbled in its own pen to the building’s right. The front display window had nothing but a handful of photographs of wild and rugged places, such as Mt. Moon and Seafoam Islands, where its employees were willing to go, and the price to be paid for the service. 

Everywhere Delivery’s specialty was sending packages to places the mailman feared to tread. Most of their employees, as far as Gray knew, were former trainers who still had their pokémon and some aptitude with using them, so that they could drive off any wild pokémon that got in their way. This place was their only office; the handful of delivery agents scattered throughout Kanto generally operated from their own homes. It was a niche business, but it did well enough.

As Gray stepped inside he could swear his sweat was already freezing his shirt into his back. The chemical tang of the eternal and aged air conditioner always embittered the air during the summer. The sickly yellow wallpaper was peeling, the plywood front desk was unoccupied, as were the rickety wooden waiting chairs whose splinters pointed threateningly upward.

“Tristan?” called Gray. He received no answer but passed through the entryway covered in a dense black curtain into the backroom. The backroom less resembled a work place than a living room, with a semicircle of worn leather couches facing a boxy beige TV that had been there for decades. All the windows were shuttered, so that the only light came from commercials, whose image was slightly distorted due to the old-fashioned screen.

A hissing, wheezing noise rose from the couch. A heavy, wheeled canister of oxygen was set next to it, and tubes ran from it to an old man, wearing a grayish shirt and worn jeans. He had tan skin and a white, frizzly beard. Short hair dangled from the sides of his bald, mottled pate. He grimaced, baring his horsey teeth.

“It’s all been done,” said Gray, passing over the forms. Gray wasn’t sure if those old eyes could actually see the signatures in the dim light, but Tristan seemed satisfied.

“Good… Although it was an easy job. The money’s in your account already… And I’ve already got another job for you.”

“Is it scheduled for today?”

“The pickup is,” said Tristan. “The delivery will take a few days; its north of Cerulean City.”

“Why isn’t the Cerulean person doing it?”

“The package is coming from Pallet Town, that’s why,” said Tristan. “Basically, the lab in Pallet Town is sending some equipment to some scientists studying the wilderness up there. What I need you to do is go down to Pallet Town this evening to pick it up. Then you can rest tonight and set out in the morning. You think you can do that? Pallet Town is a quick, easy ride…”

Gray felt somewhat annoyed at being sent out again, but a trip to Pallet Town was basically nothing.

“How much is it for?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, it’s a high-dollar job. The lab equipment, apparently, is very important.”

Tristan’s grimace widened. The light from the TV subtly changed as a Pokémon League logo, accompanied by the league’s trademark fanfare, appeared.

“We’re back, ladies and gentlemen, with today’s Pewter Gym Challenge Broadcast. So far today Brock has taken down three challengers and we’re about to see him handle a fourth…”

It was the local public access channel dedicated to broadcasting local gym challenges whenever they occurred.

“You still watch this?”

“Of course. It’s how we met, remember? Just because I can’t travel easily nowadays doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop watching trainers lose to Brock.” Tristan chuckled unpleasantly before having to choke and wheeze.

The announcer and referee shouted out the rules and terms; Brock stepped up to his side of the battlefield, as shirtless and cross-armed as ever. The opponent was a Youngster dressed in yellow cap and shirt. Brock tossed his pokéball forward, releasing his Geodude. The Youngster produced to call out the name of a Rattata.

Tristan laughed and choked wildly. “Ah, rookies! Rookies never change!”

Gray felt his stomach steadily curdle as he watched the Rattata flail against the Rock-type’s hard, brown body. Its tackles and bites rebounded pathetically against Geodude’s stone body; Geodude slapped it away after every failure, and soon enough it did not try again.

Next came a Bulbasaur but that only made Tristan grin more broadly. Vines whipped out from its bulb, violent lashing Geodude’s forehead, flinging it back to its trainer’s feet. Brock, unfazed, released his Onix.

The monolithic stone serpent spread and loomed throughout the arena. The shadow of fear crossed the Youngster’s face and the Bulbasaur timidly cringed. However, the Youngster still managed to give a command, and the Bulbasaur lashed outs its vines again and again, but the Onix moved with unexpected agility, slithering and burrowing, crashing its bulk onto the Bulbasaur with every opportunity, until the battered Bulbasaur could only collapse.

“That’s what happens when fools think a type advantage alone is enough… I remember thinking that…” Gray heard footsteps and Tristan looked up. A Wartortle was coming from another room, a kitchenette, carrying a beer bottle and two cups. Its tail and ears were hoary; dark-green moss mottled its shell. “I thought Wartortle alone could beat the gym… I tried, and tried, and tried, but I never succeeded… But you know what that’s like, hm?”

“Yes,” said Gray briefly.

“Aren’t you glad I pulled you out of that life!” barked Tristan wheezily. “Really, we’re both better off as we are now. We help people. Trainers… What good are trainers anyway…”

“I need to get to Pallet Town. Do I need anything?”

“No, no. I told him to expect you.” The Wartortle opened the bottle with its prominent front tooth and poured out a cup for both of them.

“That’s good,” said Gray, glumly.

Once outside, he half-stepped onto his bike, then stepped off. He released his Charmander. It emerged with a quizzical expression.

Gray knelt to its level. “Scrappy… I’m sorry about earlier.”

It bounded immediately into his arms, licking at him until he laughed, and he hugged it close to his body. “Alright, alright… That’s enough. Thank you, Scrappy. You know what…”

Gray took his second pokéball from his belt and let loose his male Nidoran. Enviously it jumped into Gray’s arms, doing as its only pokémon partner had just moments before.

“Okay, Byron, I get it. I’m sorry… Here, you get in the basket, and we’ll all ride to Pallet together. I don’t know if we can ride together back, though, it depends on how heavy the package is.”

Gray lifted Nidoran into his front basket, set Charmander back in place on his shoulders, and settled back onto the bike. Soon enough they were driving south, the sinking sun to their left, as he bicycled south through the rolling, flower-dappled hills of Route 1. In the aging daylight it seemed so different than that golden yellow morning eight years ago. It seemed as though there was less grass and more dirt, and there was litter here and there—not that there hadn’t been any before, but it had stood out less, somehow.

Gray could feel Charmander eagerly fidgeting and he remembered what he had read about a pokémon, and its connection to its birthplace. Some pokémon could home in on their birthplace, returning there every year, and no one knew how; Pokémon Rangers kept soils of various habitats to aid in calming pokémon down. It seemed to be having the opposite effect on Charmander, however, and the bicycle swayed somewhat dangerously across the hills. 

Soon the scattered, humble neighborhoods of little cottages that composed Pallet Town peeked beyond the hills, and beyond them, the darkening band of the sea. It glittered with dim flecks of orange and red. Charmander began chattering excitedly, as if in greeting, as they could see the hill rising to the southeast, peaked with the bulky silhouette of Oak’s lab. A windmill thrust upward with arms spinning slowly in the light breeze.

Gray skidded to a stop and stared. His heart had leapt into his throat. By all rights, he should have nothing but happy memories of this place, but all he could feel was dread. Eight years ago, he had left on his journey and here he was now, having not earned a single badge.

“He won’t remember me,” he muttered to himself. “I won’t even see him…. I’ll just see an assistant… I bet he’s recording his radio show…”

In Pallet Town he did not see a single soul, but he could sense the activity of television-watchers and those eating dinner through windows. Once he found himself at the foot of Oak’s hill, he stuffed his bike in some bushes. Gray set Charmander down, letting him and Nidoran scamper freely at his feet, and wiped down his neck with a washcloth.

“Come on now,” he said to his pokémon, “Don’t either of you wander off on me.”

Gray reluctantly trotted up the hill as his sprightly pokémon all but ran laps around him, rough-housing and chasing one another, without the slightest care in the world. Gray found himself trying to keep his breath even. It was not a hard walk; the trail up to Oak’s was paved with well-tended cobblestones. At the end, he confronted the old lab. Beyond and beneath it, in the hollow behind the hill, spread the fields, hills, and ponds that composed his ranch, inhabited by hundreds of pokémon, who could be seen from afar as flecks of moving color scattered everywhere.

Gray paused at the front door, took a deep breath, and pressed the doorbell. He waited several minutes. Then Professor Oak opened the door.

“Good evening,” said the Professor with his croaking voice. “Everywhere Delivery, isn’t it? I’ve been expecting you! Come in, come in, please have some tea…”

Gray stepped in, wavering, “No need to intrude, I can just get the package…”

“Nonsense, surely you’re tired! I know you aren’t setting off tomorrow. Look, your pokémon could use a rest, too!” Charmander and Nidoran had scampered in.

“Well… Alright…”

There was a kitchen and a small dining area just to their right—the entire living area seemed bunched up near the building’s front—and Professor Oak hustled him to the simple oak chair. Oak already had tea ready on his stove; he poured a cup for the both of them, then joined Gray. Gray drank long and deeply; it was painfully, refreshingly bitter, just the way he liked it.

“My, my…” Professor Oak had not yet drank; he had his eye on Charmander, who had come to his feet and was looking up expectantly.

“Well, well, well, I know you, don’t I?” Oak lifted Charmander up by the sides of its lean body and it relaxed reflexively at that familiar old touch. Oak looked at the short, blunt spines jutting from its back. “I thought so! And you—” Oak looked towards Gray. “I can’t say I remember every trainer I send out by heart—but seeing your pokémon, I remember you. It’s been six, no, maybe eight years, I think… Gray, wasn’t it?”

Flushing slightly, looking down, Gray mumbled, “Yes.”

Nidoran, envious of the attention, hopped beside Charmander and settled on its hind-legs, looking up expectantly. Oak scratched the nook behind its ears, its favorite spot.

“Oh-ho-ho! What a large Nidoran you have… Probably at the high end of the species’ size range. What a lucky trainer you are!”

“I’m not really a trainer anymore,” muttered Gray, but Oak didn’t hear, and instead looked at Charmander’s spines again.

“Goodness me, your Chamander takes me back!” Gray was startled to see Oak grow somewhat bleary-eyed.

“Why?” asked Gray with some alarm.

“These spines, you see,” said Oak.

“I sometimes worry about those,” said Gray. “Other Charmander don’t have them.”

“Not anymore they don’t! But when I was a boy, most of them still did. It’s fascinating, really.” Gray sensed an oncoming lecture and leaned forward, tantalized. “You see, these spines are in fact a vestigial trait. In Charmander’s evolutionary past, these spines used to be used for something, but aren’t anymore. As a result, they have been growing smaller with every generation, and now they’ve all but vanished. I’ve often pondered what their old function used to be, but fossils with the spines are so rare, you know, and people care more about finding extinct pokémon to revive nowadays than studying fossils….”

Gray’s eyes lit up, delighted by learning something he had never known. Oak trailed off, looking mildly surprised. “Oh, are you still listening? Usually young people are asleep by now! Ohohoho!”

“I love little things like that, little tidbits about how pokémon live, and their biology… So Scrappy’s really unique, isn’t he?”

“Not quite unique, but yes, very uncommon nowadays. But not for long, I’m afraid; once he evolves, they’ll be gone for good. Younger forms are more inclined to demonstrate vestigial traits than evolved forms; they’ll vanish as soon as he evolves. If you look at a Charmander embryo, you’ll see they all have spines early on, even if they don’t hatch with them.”

Gray had never thought of pokémon embryos before, but his imagination was immediately seized by what Oak said and he had a strong desire to find a book full of images of pokémon embryos, wondering what secrets they might reveal about their evolution and origins. But then hearing talk of evolution dampened Gray’s spirits, and he mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” asked Oak obliviously.

“I’m not sure he’ll ever evolve…”

“Why not?” asked Oak, his tone unchanged.

“…Aren’t you disappointed?”

“No? In what? Why would I be disappointed?”

Gray’s chest felt all cold and twisted as he spoke. “It’s been eight years. You gave me a Charmander so I could become a trainer, but in all this time, it hasn’t even evolved, or gotten stronger… I tried to get a badge… Again and again… But I failed. I’m a failure of a trainer.”

“Oh? You think so, do you?” Oak pursed his lips contemplatively, then walked to Gray’s side. “Here. I want you to take a look at something. Go ahead and close your eyes.”

“… Okay.”

Gray closed his eyes.

“Give me a minute… Yes, yes, right there, that’ll do… Okay, open them!”

Gray opened his eyes. All he saw were his pokémon standing in front of him, perhaps slightly frowning, as they sometimes did when he gave a command they didn’t understand.

“… What am I looking at?”

“Your pokémon, of course! Are they happy? Are they healthy?”

“… Of course. You can see that. You’re the world’s foremost expert on pokémon.” He had known exactly the best way to hold the Chamander, the exact spot to pet the Nidoran. Really, perhaps, it would be better if they lived with…

“Exactly!” said Oak excitedly. “It’s quite clear from looking at your pokémon that you are an excellent trainer!”

“But…”

“If there’s anyone in the world who would know these things it would be me, the world’s foremost expert on pokémon, after all,” echoed Oak, rather smugly. “Now, enough of that silly nonsense of you being a bad trainer! It’s high time we get down to why you’re here.”

Gray smiled at his pokémon, who enthusiastically nuzzled his legs before returning to their pokéballs and followed Oak deeper into his lab. In a dense, cluttered workspace, full of tables covered in little machines, papers, and biological samples, Oak found a small handheld device. It was shaped like half-an-oval with a spiraling orange antenna jutting from the flattened side, a green glass screen, and a spindly red handle with which it could be held and pointed.

“This is the PPL, the Psychotronic Pulse Link,” said Professor Oak, setting it down inside a small metal case along a paper booklet and an official-looking card. “My associate, Professor Mahogany, is in Cerulean Cave right now studying Psychic-type pokémon. He can use this to track the wavelengths of their psychic energies. He can even figure out how strong they are, or even if they are a specific species, as well as send out signals to attract pokémon.”

“Cerulean Cave?” said Gray. “But—”

“You know your stuff, don’t you? Yes—trainers can only enter with special authorization from the League, which is why I’m including a special pass for you to show the guard. It marks you as being a member of the expedition.”

“Oh, good.”

Suddenly, he felt electrified—the idea of being allowed to enter such a restricted, legendary areas, that only legendary trainers could enter, full of the rarest and most powerful imaginably pokémon of the Kanto region. Did he still have any spare pokéballs, he wondered…

Professor Oak placed a few more papers into the case, then snapped it shut and handed it to Gray. “Everything’s in order. I wish you good luck on your journey.”

“I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure this arrives safe and quick,” said Gray. “I’ll head back to report the pickup to my boss, then set out tomorrow morning.”

Gray turned down offers for more tea, feeling somewhat antsy at the sight of the sunlight retreating from the windows, and let Oak guide him back to the exit. Deciding he was too tired to let his pokémon out for the return trip, he was climbing back onto his bike when he heard Professor Oak call out to him from the door.

“Yes, Professor?” said Gray.

“Well, Gray… I just thought I’d like to say…” Oak hesitated, weighing his words. “There are many kinds of trainers in the world, and with them, many kinds of happiness. I believe that so long as someone finds their happiness alongside their pokémon, no matter how they go about it, they are a pokémon trainer. Indeed…” Oak closed his eyes and his expression relaxed; Gray felt an impression of nostalgia in the old man. “I think that is what it means to be a Pokémon Master.”

“Professor…” Gray was not sure what to say; he felt happy, as he hadn’t felt for a long time, but then—unbidden—the phantom memory of the Onix, rushing forward and roaring, renewed an old bitterness. “Thank you, Professor. “I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gray double-checked the security of the package in his basket, bade the Professor farewell, and pedaled down the way he had come.

All this, unknown and unsuspected by either the professor or the delivery boy, had been observed from afar, by eyes enhanced by technology. The electronic binoculars zoomed in on the back of the Professor as walked back into the lab, then hurriedly snapped to follow the bicycle. They focused on the metal case in particular.

The owner of these binoculars was a slender young woman with sharp-featured face and a dark-blue hair tied up in a ponytail. She lay on her stomach, concealed by shrubbery, on a nearby hill; she wore a black midriff shirt and skirt, and as she rolled slightly, propping herself on her elbow to better follow Gray, she revealed the crimson R emblazoned on her top. She squeezed the communicator of a grizzly, old-fashioned walkie-talkie in her hand.

“Agent Lancet, this is Agent V… Target sighted and identified. Requesting permission to pursue and acquire. Over.”

A voice growled its response through a haze of static so dense she could barely hear it. “Permission granted.”

The woman glared at the walkie-talkie with disgust in her eyes, relaxing her grip, silencing the awful static. A paper tag with the logo of a popular toy brand dangled from its plastic black antenna.

“Maybe if we succeed this time,” she muttered under her breath, “we’ll finally be able to get a budget…”

Agent V watched the boy vanish behind the hump of a small hill.

“Team Rocket forever!” she cried. “All Hail Giovanni!... Wherever he is.”


	2. The Road To Cerulean Cave

The next morning Gray awoke, well-rested and refreshed, in the cramped apartment he had called home ever since he quit training. He could hear the noises of his neighbors rattling through the walls; he stepped immediately out into his kitchen just to cross over to his restroom to shower. The only delineation between the kitchen and his living room was the abrupt transition from brown floral-print tile to faded blue carpeting. 

Gray let his pokémon out into the courtyard garden out the window to carry out their morning routines as he cooked himself a heavy breakfast, to stuff his stomach for the whole day or more. Gray triple-checked his pack and, on a whim, thinking of where he was going, he found his old unused pokéballs and ancient pokédex—the very first version—cloaked in dust in his dresser’s lowest drawer. He packed them up with the rest of his delivery equipment.

Gray nearly ran out immediately, but at the last moment, he hesitated, recalling something he had not done for a long while, though he had meant to do it. The words of Oak rang clearly in his mind. So, he took his home phone in hand, usually used only when Tristan called him with a job and dialed the Celadon area code followed by his sister’s phone number.

It began to ring. A part of him hoped she had already left for work, not remembering she had converted her number to a smart phone years ago, but she did answer.

“Gray, hello! It’s so good to hear from you! Is everything alright?” said Sarai.

“… Yeah, of course,” said Gray. “I just thought I’d call you. Are you at work?”

“No, well, yes, but my class hasn’t started yet. How’s your training going? Anything exciting happening?”

“Um… I traveled to the remote edge of Viridan Forest, called Ochre Woods. Hardly anybody goes there,” said Gray. “I fought a strong Pinsir, which I’ve never seen around here before, and managed to beat it. Didn’t catch it though.”

“Well, you’ll get it next time, I’m sure!”

“Yeah… Oh! But what I’m really looking forward to is coming up next.” Gray’s voice perked up slightly as he transitioned from feigned to genuine enthusiasm. “I… I’ve agreed to help a pokémon professor with a little errand, so I’m getting permission to go into Cerulean Cave.”

“Oh? Oh! That’s wonderful! I once listened to one of Madam Erika’s lectures on the ecology of Cerulean Cave. It sounds so fascinating, it’s so hard to get in!” Sarai taught classes on biology at Celadon University; Celadon’s Erika served not only as the local gym leader, but the head of his sister’s teaching department. Once Gray had joked he never challenged Erika to a battle so she wouldn’t hold a loss against his sister, but as time passed it stopped being funny.

“I promise I’ll tell you all about it,” said Gray. “I’ve got to get going now, I’ve got a lot of ground to cover to get there in time. I’ll probably be too busy to call again for maybe another week.”

“Alright, be safe! Go out there and get them!”

“Bye.”

Gray hung up and sighed. He stared disconsolately at the floor, tapping his feet for a few minutes before he could move on. Gray recalled his pokémon through the window and biked quickly to the office. Company policy meant he couldn’t keep the package in his house, but the old man was still sleeping, so he rushed in and out without turning on any lights. Gray brooked little delay even on ordinary jobs and especially not on one when he actually looked forward to the destination.

The first part of the morning took him around Viridian Forest. The dirt-trail that hugged its eastern side was quicker than fighting with the Bug-types and Bug Catchers, and the Weedle and Caterpie could just cling to their limbs to watch as he sped by. Reaching Pewter this way never took more than an hour or so.

Beyond the forest the dirt of the road transitioned to pavement and he began passing by suburban neighborhoods he had seen many times before, with stately signs advertising such bland names as “Pewter Pines” and “Meadow Parks”. The hills humped up and down and he followed their rise and fall until Pewter City proper sprawled before him, with its tremendous museum looking down on it all from a high hill to the north.

Gray pulled over at the first cage he saw to purchase a drink of crisp, cold water; he’d be living on nothing but the lukewarm stuff until he got through Mt. Moon, after all. It was just before the lunch hour on a weekday, so the streets were fairly quiet, except for a line of heavy trucks he stopped for, probably heading to some mine or quarry in the rugged rocky areas west of town. At a large intersection in the center of town he stopped to admire the Pewter City Garden, whose cherry-blossoms and flower-fields had come beautifully into their colors.

Impulsively, reluctantly—he could not help himself—he twisted his neck left and upwards, toward the barren, rocky hill on which the Pewter City Gym sat. It was a squat, long building, whose walls were covered in a façade resembling rectangular gray stones of a primitive, monolithic sort. There was nobody up there; he could barely make out an electronic billboard announcing in large letters the gym was closed for the day.

Gray shrugged; the gym being closed wasn’t unusual. It just meant nobody had scheduled a battle for the day, or it was just one of the days the leader took off during the week. The notion of battling Brock was the furthest thing from his mind, Gray assured himself; it would just wear out his pokémon for the journey ahead humiliate him on public access television, probably in front of his own boss.

Gray pedaled just as fast as he could to get out of Pewter, towards Route 3 that cut through the valley at the base of the Mt. Moon mountain range. The trees and grassy fields gave way to earth and stone and the route descended as the colossal, blue-gray mountains loomed closer, each higher than the last, until the marching row of colossi met their climax in titanic, crater-marked, silvery-grey Mt. Moon, straddling the horizon.

Spring, of course, is an excellent time of year to travel; the wind is sweet, the weather mild, the world beautiful with new life—but rolling through down Route 3, one particular problem with springtime reared its ugly head.

Trainers, trainers, everywhere—youngsters, lasses, bug catchers, all sorts, romping through the high grass, clustering in little bands of battlers, all clogging up the throughfare. With the warming of the weather came the distribution of first partner pokémon and now the newcomers were everywhere. Their stares remained fixed and intent, like invisible alarm beams, aching to snatch anyone who passed by.

It was not long before a young boy wearing a red cap and shorts boldly lunged in front of his bike, forcing Gray to skid to a dangerous stop.

“What?”

“When two trainers’ eyes meet, that means it’s time for a battle!” cried the Youngster. “I challenge you!”

“I’m not a trainer,” said Gray. “I’m a delivery boy, and you’re in my way.”

“You are too a trainer! I can see the balls on your belt—and even your pokédex!”

Gray hastily pushed his old pokédex deeper into his pocket. 

“These pokémon are on me to protect me on my deliveries,” said Gray. He tried to wheel his bike around the Youngster, who darted to block his path. 

“Come off it, I haven’t had a good fight all day!”

Gray felt a trembling against his waist as his pokémon grew excited.

“I said no!” Gray shouted. He jumped onto his bike, driving it forward, kid or no kid. 

The Youngster managed to leap out of the way, but he shouted at Gray’s back: “You’re breaking the rules! You’re a coward! Hey, everybody, that guy’s a coward! He’s too afraid to fight a little kid!”

Gray rankled at the noise of laughter that came from the other new trainers scattered around, but he only biked faster than ever. No one else delayed him, but it was still a long, hard trip, winding about ridges and hills, culminating in a hard, high run up the grassy base of Mt. Moon. By the end his legs ached and he all but let himself fall on his side at the sight of the Mt. Moon Pokémon Center.

Gray found a nearby rock to sit down on, but it croaked, and he jumped up just in time to let the Geodude harmlessly bounce away. Gray poked and prodded the next stone, rested on it for a while, then wheeled his bicycle away from the Pokémon Center, towards a field of craters. They were of many shapes and sizes, all very old and worn into more natural shapes by the elements, and the dirt within was grayish and soft. With nightfall approaching all the trainers were gathering around it, sitting on its porch and watching the stars come out as the chatted and traded, and Gray didn’t feel the need to be heckled again.

As a delivery boy, he had no right to the Pokémon Center’s services, so he set up his collapsible tent and a portable electric fire. Gray spent an hour or so cooking a light dinner and feeding his pokémon. Scrappy and Byron often lingered on the edge of the camp, attracted by the flash and noise of casual battle, but Gray called sharply to them and they came back.

Exhausted, he did not have the energy to do much socializing or playing with his pokémon; once they had their fill of food and drink, he put them both away, as well as the fire, then turned in for the night.

#

Gray’s pokégear sounded off at six in the morning, all the better to cut through Mt. Moon in a single day. He collapsed his bike—it was safer on it than off it in the caverns—and breakfast very briefly. After a quick stretching session to work out the kinks in his body left over from yesterday, he set out.

Fortunately, no trainers confronted him by the center. From his experience at this time of day, half the new trainers would still be sleeping in and would until noon. The other half were too excited to sleep and had set out to hunt for pokémon already. The Pokémon Center was set right against the mountain, so that its upper floor opened out to a well-tended garden carved out of slope where trainers could eat out in the fresh mountain air. A sparsely paved path followed a gently rising slope towards Mt. Moon. The blue-gray stone yawned open, ridged like a throat, eventually falling to darkness. Beside the entrance was a large wooden sign that provided advice and rules for visitors (“No littering! Only one Clefairy per trainer! Poaching Paras mushrooms is forbidden, regardless of what happens to Paras when it becomes Parasect!”) and right beside the signs, making anxious noises and motions, was a young woman.

Plastic Moon Stone earrings dangled from her ears, stickers of famous Mt. Moon pokemon like Jigglypuff and Clefable studded her messenger bag, and half her face was covered by her enormous, star-shaped sunglasses, bringing together the perfect portrait of a petty tourist gathering every chunk of overpriced kitsch they could buy. Gray was certain she had bought it all from the tourist trap at the Mt. Moon Sqare. The woman, who seemed about his own age, had blue-black hair done up in a ponytail, a tie-dye shirt tied up over her stomach, and jeans-shorts whose fading hue and tattered shape both looked like they had been manufactured in a factory.

Gray initially hoped to quickly pass by without acknowledging her presence, but for whatever reason, the stranger looked excited to see him.

“Heey! Yoo-hoo! May have a word?”

Against his better judgment, Gray turned his head. “Yes?”

The stranger ran up to him in an exaggerated, excessively bouncy fashion. “Heeey! So, I couldn’t help but notice, well, you have pokéballs on your belt, and you seem to be entering Mt. Moon.”

“And…?”

“So, I’m here at Mt. Moon backpacking during my gap year,” she said, “and I was traveling with my group with a guide. The problem is, one of my groupmates lied about money they were supposed to pay, and everything fell apart. I don’t have any pokémon, and no guide to protect me, so I was hoping—since you were passing through anyway—if you’d let me tag along to Cerulean City.”

“I’m on a delivery for my job,” said Gray. “I can’t slow down.”

“We’ll be walking side by side the whole way, so I don’t see how that would slow you down!”

“Uh-huh,” said Gray. “Listen, these hills are crawling with new trainers. Any of them could help you and they’d probably be happy too, especially the boys.”

“Oh come on!” she huffed. “Stick me with kids? No way! I want a sane, reasonable adult, like yourself…”

“Then wait for another one to come along,” said Gray. “I’m on the clock.”

Gray tried to step forward, but she stretched her arm, placing her hand on his shoulder. A strange shiver passed through him as he suddenly caught wind of a sweet perfume.

“Oh, please! I’ll make it worth your while…”

Gray briefly wondered just how desperate this woman would be, but she pulled a dark-blue stone, shining and smooth like polished glass, from her messenger bag. With every slight movement of her hand’s whitish-blue streaks flashed and flickered across it.

“A Moon Stone…”

“I found it when I tried to go into the cave alone. They’re really rare and really valuable! Even if you’re pokémon can’t use them, I bet you could sell it for a lot! Everybody needs money, right?”

Long ago, Gray had transported a Moon Stone, but it had been sealed in its package and he had had to resist the urge to peek. Easily now he could imagine that Moon Stones had spent eons tumbling through starry space, as in all his travels he had never seen any stone as eerie yet beautiful as it. One of his pokémon could use it, in fact. Byron, if he were ever to evolve, could use it to evolve again immediately. But it would almost be a shame, for he knew all the Moon Stone’s luster would be lost and in time it will crack and crumble into colorless sand.

“… Alright. Give it to me and I’ll take you along.”

“See? I knew you would like it!” The stranger grinned and gladly gave it over. Gray had half-expected her to refuse payment until the service had completed, but he was happy she hadn’t. By her own admission, her history with paying people for guidance was not the best. Somehow, he suspected her story deflected some fault for her predicament.

“So,” he said, “what’s your name?”

“Me? I’m Vanora of Mahogany Town. You?”

“Gray of Celadon City.”

“Charmed,” she said, with an apparently reasonless giggle. A warm sort of prickle passed over his back, a sensation he always felt when something did not seem right. This time, he suspected the problem was that it had been a while since he had been this close to a girl. He had found a few girlfriends in Viridian since he quit training, but the last relationship had ended nearly half-a-year ago.

Without further delay, together Gray and Vanora entered the cave. The shadows huddled closer around them as the circle of light behind them shrank. The weak sunlight soon became displaced by a strange, omnipresent phosphorescence oozing from the stony walls, a mixture of Moon Stone minerals that had become part of the mountain and various glowing fungi and molds that grew in long, broad streaks. The entrance tunnel soon widened expansively into Mt. Moon’s famous, gigantic first chamber, a great hollow that lead to many other tunnels that spread throughout the complex. Gray had passed through it many times and knew the quickest way through.

Vanora kept close. Above unseen wings flapped, and jaws screeched, but thankfully no Zubat dove to greet them. Gray guided them down a very well-worn path, taken by most trainers who went this way, and postmarked by tell-tale signs of their passage: cracks and craters generated by battle impacts, scorch marks, some snack litter Gray huffily picked up.

The cavern walls hemmed in closer as they took a narrowing tunnel that ultimately terminated in a fork. The left path was the swiftest and fastest way through, while the right was a little slower. As they approached, Gray immediately knew something was wrong: a bright artificial slight splashed down on them from away, bleaching away the soft natural twilight of Mt. Moon. Gray ran to see what was happening, ignoring Vanora’s call to slow down.

Electric torches had been hung around the left-hand route, which had also been blocked by orange road barricades. “Road Closed” signs clung onto each one, as well as with a single sign politely explaining there had been a cave-in up ahead.

“See? This is why I needed help!” gasped Vanora, catching up. “The easy way’s all blocked!”

“It would have been nice to know this sooner,” said Gray. “There’s another tunnel we could’ve taken further back, but it’s too late now. It’ll be quicker just to keep going.”

“Silly me, oh well!” Vanora shrugged with exaggerated non-chalance, and Gray could only sigh. There was something strangely smug about the look in her eyes that Gray could not imagine the reason for, but she was too busy goofing around to notice the orange cloud of powder creeping behind her.

“Scrappy, use Ember!”

“What! I didn’t do anything! What’re you blaming me for!”

Vanora screamed, jumping out of the way just in time to let the fireball disperse and burn the Stun Spore. Immediately Vanora began screaming again, as a small shadowy shape clung to her legs, slashing with large spike-like appendages.

“Help her, Scrappy!”

Scrappy charged, prying the small enemy from Vanora’s legs. The Paras hissed and spat from their mandibles and the two pokémon pokémon wrestled and clawed one another. Briefly Paras managed to pin Charmander onto their back before the Fire-type’s two legs struck its underbelly hard, launching it again the wall. With shrill, pained screeches, the Paras scuttled away.

“You’re supposed to be protecting me!” shouted Vanora. 

“You still need to pay attention to your surroundings,” said Gray. “Still, it’s a little odd.”

“Odd? What? Why?”

“Wild pokémon are usually more aggressive towards trainers and their pokémon,” he said. “They should’ve gone for me first….”

“H-huh, that’s funny, but, oh well! You can never know how wild pokémon will act, that’s what my mother taught me!”

“… True enough.” Gray took down the electric torches one by one, turning them off as he packed them away.

“W-why are you doing that?”

“Whoever did this wasn’t trained well,” said Gray. “You can’t leave electric lights on in this cave. It’ll dry up the surroundings and dehydrate the pokémon, especially Sandshrew and Paras. That might be why that Paras was acting odd.”

“H-huh, interesting.”

Gray looked at Vanora. She looked visibly tense, to the point of having a few beads of sweat coming down her forehead. 

“Listen, I’m sorry I let that Paras get that close to you,” said Gray. “Scrappy, keep close to Vanora. Keep an eye on her and keep her safe.”

Charmander barked in the affirmative, although Vanora looked at the little pokémon uncertainly.

They continued their way. Gray would have had to keep Charmander out regardless, as this section of the cave was more poorly lit. As they plunged into deeper strata the geology changed, shifting to a lighter reddish-beige stone whose mineral content did not suit the appetites of the bright fungi from above.

The tunnels were narrower here, splitting more frequently and more confusingly, often opening into lonely chambers with no way out. Gray had been taking the same, routine road for so many years he had forgotten these wilder roads he had plumbed as a child, he often led them down dead ends. Occasionally he heard the activity of other trainers echoing from the distance, but thankfully never down the ways they needed to go.

Eventually Gray managed to find a broad, gently sloping tunnel that he knew would begin to rise again, marking the halfway point. However, Charmander’s tail-flame shed light on another, unusual occurrence: a dark mass that, as they approached, was clearly a hole in a ground.

“What’s this!” Vanora said, dismayed.

“Obviously, it’s a big hole,” said Gray. He crouched to peer into its depths, aided slightly by the firelight. He could see snapped and broken beams of wood nestled among a floor of gravel and dirt. A pair of heavy stones nestled at the bottom opened their eyes and croaked irritably. Looking up, Gray could see more pitfalls opening up further. One looked only half-open, with the dirt sealing still crumbling.

“Someone’s been digging here,” said Gray.

“O-o-oh really?”

“Maybe pokémon hunters,” he continued, “but they’d have to be stupid ones. The pokémon here will just love these holes. Look, there’s Geodude nesting in this one,” Gray crawled towards the next one, “and look, here’s a pair of Sandshrew.”

“…Well, it’s a good thing those pokémon tripped those traps before us!”

“I’ll have to report these traps to the police when I get the chance.”

“Wouldn’t that just slow you down?”

“I’ll do it after,” said Gray.

Now that Gray knew they were there, it was easy enough to see the freshly upturned dirt and rock that marked every trap, although there were not many left. Many pokémon had already found them, leaped headfirst into the pit, then gladly made a new home for themselves. Vanora seemed anxious walking through them, staring into their holes, as if they might suck her in.

The pitfalls soon vanished behind them. Gray checked his pokégear, discovered it was noon, and decided now would be a good time to rest and eat. Gray had prepared a few sandwiches before setting out and thankfully he did not have to make anything for Vanora, who had a packed lunch, albeit a very sparse one. Gray let his Nidoran out so his pokémon could eat together.

“Geeze, is that a pokégear, Grandpa?” guffawed Vanora.

“They were the hottest thing not so long ago,” said Gray sourly. “My sister got me this as a gift the year after I set out.”

“You know, you’d be able to work for yourself if you go a smart phone,” she said, pulling hers out and swiping through it as if demonstrating that fact.

“That just sounds like a pain,” said Gray. He watched her flicking through her phone with the typical dead-eyed look of smart phone users. “So, you’re taking a gap year, huh? That’s a school thing, right?”

“U-uh yes. I just graduated high school and I’m taking a gap year.”

“High school, huh,” said Gray. “I probably should have gone to school instead of becoming a trainer.”

“Oh? Why?”

“My sister’s a teacher at Celadon University. I could’ve gone there eventually. But my sister really wanted me to be a trainer, like our parents… So even after I quit, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. But that also meant I couldn’t go back to school, so I had to find a job.”

“Hmm,” said Vanora. “So, why’d you quit anyway?”

Gray bit his lip, not wanting but answer, but for some reason, he did. Well, not just “some” reason—girls sometimes to react in a way he considered “positive” after telling this story. Sometimes, anyway. The other times they were less than impressed.

“I couldn’t beat Brock,” said Gray. “It’s as simple as that. I did everything I could. I caught Water- and Grass-types, I trained every day, I challenged him at least once a week for nearly two years, and still I couldn’t beat him.”

“Damn,” said Vanora. “Is it really that tough?”

“Some say it is, but I don’t really think so. Plenty of trainers go around earning badges. At the end of the day, some people just don’t have talent.”

“…Well, you were persistent. Two whole years…”

“I would’ve turned out just like Tristan if he hadn’t stopped me.” Gray barked out bitter laughter.

“Who?”

“My boss. I met him in Pewter. He spent a lot of time at the Pokémon Center. He was—well, is—an old man who always stuck out from the crowd. One day I asked the nurse about him. Every week or so, he would demand a health check-up so he could be cleared to fight the gym leader again and every time he would be denied. I guess he was a trainer, too—better than me, though, he managed to get two badges—but like me, he never beat earned the Stone Badge. I guess he fought Brock’s father or grandfather back in the day. Eventually, he got older and suffered lung problems, so he never got to earn the badge.

“Anyway, every time he got a check-up he would swing by and watch the fights, including mine. I would watch the fights too and we’d talk a little. Sometimes he’d tell me what I did wrong and give me advice on how to do it differently.

“Then one day, after what felt like the hundredth fight I lost, he was waiting for me as I left the gym and he said…” Gray paused, remembered that cloudy, wind-swept day and Tristan’s goatish, grimacing face. 

“‘You’ve been trying for a long time, boy. The simple fact is I don’t think it’s going to happen. Not at all. You just don’t have ‘it’. I know it, because many years ago I realized I didn’t have ‘it’ either. The difference is, it took me decades to learn I would never become the Pokémon Master. Don’t you turn out like me. Give up now and I’ll help you find a new place in the world.’”

“… Or something like that. In the end, it sounded like something I had already been telling myself without listening. So, I released or gave away most of my pokémon and accepted a job at his family’s company as a delivery boy. And now here I am.”

“Hmm… I was a trainer once,” said Vanora.

“Oh?” said Gray, attention perked. “What happened?”

“Well, I only did it for one year, like a normal person when it doesn’t work out,” said Vanora. “Then I went back home to my family.”

“Oh… What happened to your pokémon?”

“Um, they became family pets,” she said. “So, you said you got rid of your pokémon, but what about those two?”

Charmander and Nidoran lifted up their heads.

“Well, Scrappy here was my first ever, of course, and Byron was my first catch, so I couldn’t get rid of them, could I?” Gray beckoned with his hands, signaling his pokémon to nuzzle and lick them, the smell of food still on their tongues and teeth. “I’ll admit… To save money, I tried to let Byron go. But he wouldn’t leave and Scrappy needed company… They’re important and useful to my delivery job anyway.”

Gray stood up. “Well, that was a good lunch, so once you’re ready to go, I am.”

“Alright.”

Gray recalled Nidoran and waited on her to finish. As she tidied up, she looked at his backpack. 

“You know, your pack seems kind of heavy,” she said. “I can take it for a little while, if you’d like. My load’s lighter.”

“Thanks, but it’s impossible,” said Gray curtly. “Against company policy.”

“… Well, alright, if you just have to make things harder for yourself...”

They departed their small nook and began ascending the gradually rising tunnel. Gray kept a sharp lookout for more pitfalls, but it seems whoever had been making them lacked the time, energy, or resources to make any beyond the first field. Eventually the road split in five different directions at once, but the right way was easily remembered due to its especially bendy shape, but just as they were about to enter Vanora screamed again.

Three Zubat had swooped down from below, surrounding her. Charmander hissed and snarled, but it was difficult for it to attack without harming her, so Gray took his delivery hat and swatted it at them until they flew away.

“Geeze, did you quit being a trainer because pokémon just don’t like you?” he said.

“Ha-ha-haa… Maybe’s it my perfume…”

If anything, that perfume should make them like you more, thought Gray, although he kept it to himself.

The tunnel eventually opened into a ravine cutting through a larger cavern, much like the one at the start of the cave. The ravine’s walls rose tall and sheer, leaning towards them with stalactites dripping like teeth from their ridged sides. Vanora screamed yet again as a Sandshrew bounced into her, but Charmander swung its tail, sending it rolling on its merry way. 

The road began to rise and would soon take them above and beyond the ravine, to rejoin the cavern that would swiftly take them outside. Just as he thought the end was near, however, Gray felt a plucking at his ankles. Looking down, he could see a cord drawn tight as a bowstring stretching across the ground, pressing against his jeans.

Gray let out a breath. The cord snapped.

He instinctively froze at the thunderous, deafening noise of a great, scattered mass crashing down, shaking the earth beneath his feet. To his right he could see boulders, endless stones and pebbles, great heaps of earth and random little pouring over the ravine, rushing towards him. By the time Gray thought to leap out of the way, it as already over. The great bulk of the small avalanche simply flopped over to the base of the ravine walls, while rivulets of sand and pebbles washed up around his feet, barely brushing against the tip of the shoe.

“Okay, what the heck!” screamed Vanora.

“More of those hunters’ traps,” said Gray. “I’m definitely reporting this now. I bet they caused that cave-in. They seem incompetent enough to do that.”

“Y-you don’t know that, maybe pokémon just keep messing around with their traps!” said Vanora.

“Maybe.” Gray walked onto the earthen heap, hoping maybe to find a clue to the culprits’ identity, but instead a stone with a remarkable shape caught his eye. Stooping to pick it up, he flipped it over, then cried out in excitement.

“Wow! Vanora, look at this!”

“What?” 

Reckless, Gray slid down the stone and dirt on his heels, thrusting the strange rock towards Vanora excitedly.

“See those holes in it? And look, flip it over, there’s a depression here… It’s a Dome Fossil! It’s a prehistoric pokémon, Kabuto, petrified from millions of years ago… I’ve always wanted a fossil, this is amazing, I could almost forgive those hunters if they weren’t scum…”

Vanora frowned. In fact, her face gradually darkened into a deep crimson shade.

“Really? Something like that was in that heap of rubbish? You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“It’s good to have a sharp eye for this things,” said Gray, somewhat smugly. “It’s really easy to mistake—”

Gray felt silent. From above, he heard a steady ringing singing.

“Something’s coming,” he said.

They watched as bouncing, spinning shapes fluttered about with dance-like rhythm about either lip of the ravine. They settled down on either edge, revealing themselves under tail-light as Clefairy, but with foul looks on their faces. They began to chant in almost military fashion. Gray heard and quickly felt rocks whistling through the air.

“Ow! Ow! Stop it!” cried Vanora.

Gray hurled his Nidoran’s pokéball: “Scrappy, Ember again! Byron, Poison Sting!”

Nidoran bristled its spines and Charmander’s tail-flame flashed as they launched needles and flame toward either wing of the enemy forces. The Clefairy fell silent and bounded away at once, fleeing as swiftly as they had come.

“I’ve never heard of Clefairy acting like this before,” said Gray. “All this environmental disruption must be upsetting them badly.”

“… Yeah…”

Gray, Nidoran, and Charmander stared around them, not trusting that the danger had ended, when an enormous shape plunged from above. The light vanished and Charmander screamed as it crashed down onto them, pinning them down, blocking the light as short, stubby limbs began striking their victim. Gray began to utter a command but even as he did the great shape bounced up again, crashing down on Nidoran.

This time it screeched as it made contact, toppling onto its side. Charmander stood, swinging its tail, shedding light on an enormous Clefable. The sight stunned Gray, who could not believe he was seeing such a rare sight in the wild. This gave Clefable time to stand: its fists burst with a silver fire, streaming a tail of light like a comet, and it lunged towards Vanora.

“Attack! Both of you!”

Vanora screamed, ducking just in time to avoid the Clefable swinging Meteor Mash; needles and fire struck its back. Clefable turned around, a bleak, frightening look on its face, and lunged against towards Charmander. Its left fist crashed on Charmander’s head, pinning it hard against the earth.

Nidoran bristled, launching a flurry of stings that embedded themselves into Clefable’s back. It flinched, loosening its grip, and Charmander slipped free.

“Now! Metal Claw!”

Charmander’s nails grew and hardened, flashing with a metallic sheen, as they raked the Clefable’s belly. Even as it cried out in pain Nidoran charged, driving its toxic horn into its other side. Clefable staggered, mewling pathetically, as it stumbled backward. It glared at the humans that had invaded its home. It made a curious gesture with its three fingers. A dazzling rainbow light burst from its paw, shooting straight towards Vanora.

“No!” Gray stood in front of her, taking it in the chest; it drove him backwards, but he still stood. His pokémon screamed in rage, mindlessly launching volleys of fire and venom at Clefable. Its badly battered, now burned form seemed to have had enough; it collapsed onto its side, panting wildly.

Gray stretched his arm backwards, pushing his hand into his backpack with nervous excitement to awkwardly find those pokéballs he hadn’t actually thought he’d use. Before he could find them, though, he heard the Clefairy singing again.

Dozens—perhaps even a hundred—of the fairy pokémon bounded into the ravine. Charmander and Nidoran kept each other’s back nervously as they swarmed began bouncing rapidly in every direction, almost like an undulating mass, that combined with their suddenly discordant singing made Gray dizzy.

Through the clustered Clefairy he could barely see some of them surround the Clefable, whom they clung to tightly in a huddled group, before bouncing all at once. They carried the Clefable high into the air, vanishing over the ravine, and gradually, all the other Clefairy bounced after them. They were well and thoroughly done.

Gray turned to look at Vanora on the ground.

“Are you alright?”

“Uh… Yes,” Vanora said, sounding slightly dazed. “Um… You shouldn’t of done that.”

Gray arched his eyebrow. “Why not?... I wouldn’t want to give you an excuse to take the Moon Stone back, would I?”

“Oh. I guess not.”

“I think we’re safe now,” said Gray. His pokémon ran up to him, where he showered them with hugs and kisses and stinging Potion sprays they didn’t like at all. “Excellent! You both did excellent! PokePuffs for everybody next time we go to town!”

Vanora kept an awkward silence the rest of the way and fortunately Mt. Moon kept its silence as well. Soon the semi-circle of daylight shone before them and they broke into open air once again. It was late afternoon. The lovely emerald hills, rippling with wind, rolled gently towards Cerulean City, glittering like a sapphire to the east. However, Gray’s road further north, still along the mountains, towards the black, pointed peak far off he knew nestled Cerulean Cave in its depths.

“Well, our deal is done,” said Gray.

“Yeah…”

“Good luck with school, Vanora,” he said. “I hope your life turns out better than mine did.”

“That’s… kind of a bleak way of putting it. I mean, you look the same age as me…”

“I guess,” said Gray, shrugging. “Good-bye, Vanora.”

“Bye, Gray.”

Charmander and Nidoran stared at her before running to follow their master. Vanora watched him unfolder his bicycle, mount Charmander on his back and Nidoran in his basket and set off. Once he was a good distance away, she took a plastic walkie-talkie out of her messenger bag.

“Agent V here. Operation Moondrop was a failure. We will have to retrieve the package at its destination.”

“Very well, Agent V. Never fear. To be frank, I prefer it this way. A greater risk, but a greater reward. Now my preparations will not have gone to waste…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Depending on how this goes, I have made it my personal goal to update this every Sunday.


End file.
